Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream Cabinet

I think I can finally write about this.

My injuries have healed–the physical ones, at least–and the smell has gone away. It was a long road to recovery, but it was worth it.

Decorating my apartment is my favorite hobby. My only real goal is to make it as adorable as possible. (There was a point a few months ago when I thought I had made my apartment as cute as it could be, and I sank into a deep depression. Then I realized that absolute adorability can never be reached, so I righted myself and bought some curtains.)

This leads me to my biggest project to date. The project that inspired this post. The project that nearly ended my DIYing life.

It began with this cabinet. Doesn’t she look innocent? A little white thing with legs akimbo. She all but bats her eyelashes. I found her at my favorite furniture thrift store.

The cabinet was just exactly the size I needed, and it was a reasonable price. I knocked on it, and it sounded like wood. I figured I could spend a weekend repainting it and have just exactly the cabinet I wanted.

I was so young.

My plan was to combine paint and stain to get something two-toned like this. It was going to be so fancy. I bought my paint and can of Zip Strip and got to work on a Friday night after work.

I figured I could strip the cabinet on Friday, paint a coat on Saturday, and finish up on Sunday. I opened the can of Zip Strip. Or, I attempted to. I tried pushing the lid down. The lid made a clicking noise. It was like it was telling me that it could open, it just didn’t want to. I tried pulling the lid up. That didn’t work either. I banged on it with my screw driver. I stood on it, balancing my heel on the lid and imagining what would happen if I burst the can and sprayed caustic chemicals everywhere.

I called my dad. He said that my choices were to wait until he got up there or go back to the hardware store. I drove back to Ace, ashamed. When I explained the situation, the woman at the desk announced over the PA that I needed assistance. She called “Big Tom” to the front. Big Tom was about 6’2 and twelve years old. It took him four seconds to open the can of Zip Strip. Big Tom was one of those smirky tweens.

So began my DIY troubles. I hurried home, trying to get a start on the cabinet before dark. I opened the doors and started to peel up the shelf paper that covered the inside. I wouldn’t peel. It wasn’t shelf paper.

It was wallpaper.

Who wallpapers furniture? Unrepentant sinners with limited vision and a complete lack of foresight, that’s who.

Not to be deterred, I looked up wallpaper removal. Everyone recommended some fancy wallpaper eating tool, but I didn’t need no stinking tools. I got out my Xacto knife and started cutting scores in the wall paper to let the Zip Strip seep through. I did not swear.

I couldn’t remove paint until the next day. This way, I had fresh and hopeful new light shining to reveal the next horror.

My cabinet, my friendly little wooden cabinet, the cabinet that I was going to stain and also paint, was not wood. It was laminate. I was nearly defeated. My plans were ruined. I pressed on.

The paint fumes started to get to me. I used four cans of Zip Strip. I used it wrongly. Somewhere around Saturday evening, my cozy mystery audiobook ended and I switched to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. The wrinkled paint started to develop pretty patterns.

Sunday night, I hit my groove. I figured out the Zip Strip. (Reading instructions helps. Who knew?) I had five hours of daylight left, and I was going to remove the paint from that rebellious cabinet. When I smashed my finger during a particularly zealous sanding maneuver, I shook off the dizziness and nausea, but decided to take a break when my finger threatened to bleed on my nearly stripped cabinet.

When I returned to work on Monday, I had trouble focusing. I wasn’t sure if it all those hours spent with noxious gasses or just my utter need complete my project, but even my waiting-for-files-to-load doodles were cabinet-themed.

The actual painting of the cabinet was uneventful. I went with a vintage olive green. The legs of the cabinet did turn out to be solid wood, so I finished them in a walnutty color. The cabinet took me three weeks of weekends and weeknights to finish. The cost of the materials would easily have covered a new cabinet, so when I finally finished, I took stock of what I learned: I gained a little experience, a little humility. And I gained a little green cabinet whose paint chipped when I moved it into place.

Title taken from this movie. If you don’t like it, we can’t be friends.

Photos were all sent through Instagram to try to hide the fact that they are, in fact, iPhone photos. In case you were wondering, it is unwise to pour your coffee into your purse when your purse contains your nice camera.

City of the Big Shoulders

I went to New York City last week.

I didn’t like it.

To be fair, I hardly saw the place. I was there for a conference for work, so most of my time was spent at my hotel, attending conference sessions.

New York was absolutely nothing like a Doris Day movie, and it made me quite crabby.

I did notice one major thing while I was there, though.

I noticed that I really like Chicago.

So, as a small celebration of the city that I love, I thought I’d share a little homage to the city that I love best.

Whenever Chicago comes up in popular culture, one of two songs is chosen as the sound track, either Frank Sinatra singing “My Kind of Town“, or [someone] singing “Sweet Home Chicago“. Those are great songs. I’m not saying they’re not. I’m glad they exist. Etc. But do you know what? They weren’t written by Chicagoians. It was some guy from New York and another guy from Mississippi. I’m offended. Don’t you think if we (I’m talking to Chicagoians now) are going to be represented by an artistic work, it should at least be written by Chicagoians?

I know. I’m right.

So, I would like to present to you my favorite short piece of literature about Chicago. It’s not like it’s terribly obscure or anything. I just don’t think it gets the attention it deserves. Instead of copying and pasting the whole thing into my blog post, which smells a lot like stealing, I’m going to show you this video:

Vincent Price reads “Chicago” by Carl Sandburg. I know. Vincent Price. Neat.

You’ve probably heard it before. We’re pretty mainstream here at Staircase Wit the Blog. It’s “Chicago”, by Carl Sandburg, who was born in the suburbs and lived in the city as an adult. Don’t you just like it? It gives me just exactly the feeling I have when I step off the train at LaSalle and Jackson. The city has a rhythm that the first two songs just don’t capture. There is a heartbeat and a dichotomy that “that toddelin’ town” can’t explain. That’s why I like how Vincent Price reads the poem. At first I thought it might be sacrilegious to have a St. Louisian read it, but he was the only one on the whole of YouTube who didn’t read it like capital-P Poem. He reads it like he is telling you that Chicago is proud to be Hog Butcher, Freight Handler, Stacker of Wheat…

I love this poem.

Sure, Chicago is flawed. Sure, we have more corruption in our little finger than Michigan has in their whole mitten. But “[c]ome and show me another city with lifted head singing, so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.”

This post is getting sort of long and I haven’t even showed you the thing I wanted to show you.

Here. Go look at this picture of a baby otter and come back refreshed. I will eat chocolate-covered soybeans and re-read my poem and we’ll continue on when you’re ottered and ready.

Ready? Ok.

Now, here is the Thing that I Wanted to Show You. It’s a local artist. His name is Meng Yang. He has a store called Know Your Flag, which is full of Chicago-inspired art work. I met him at the Renegade Craft Fair last summer. I was looking for a particular Chicago-themed poster and thought it might come from his booth, which was full of Chicago-themed art, so I stopped by to ask him if he knew anything about it. The conversation went sort of like this:

Me: Do you have this poster?

Him: No. I bet lots of Renegade sellers have Chicago-themed art that they made just for this fair. I try to make Chicago-themed art that’s a little more meaningful and tied to the spirit of the city itself instead of just screen-printing the flag onto a t-shirt and calling it a day.

Me: How many children do you want?

Here is what was so exciting: his booth was full of posters based on the Sandburg poem.

I know. I freaked out. I mostly just looked at them all and flapped my hands and embarrassed Long-suffering Lorraine who was with me.

Here is my favorite:

It’s perfect, really. It is just exactly how I see Chicago. Stormy, husky, brawling. Can’t you just see the “City of Big Shoulders” embodied in the Sears Tower?

He has lots more, too: Player with Railroads, Stacker of Wheat, Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker. He has a series on Chicago neighborhoods, and one on each of the stars in the Chicago flag. There’s also one that I love on “Da Good” and “Da Bad” of Richard M. Daley’s rein. (In case you were wondering, I own this t-shirt, only girl-shaped.)

There was one poster that completely stumped me:

Me: I know that one. That’s the statue from the first World’s Fair.

Him: No, actually, that’s Miss Chicago. She was chosen to be the emblem of the city after the Chicago Fire, and she says “I Will” because the city vowed to rebuild and be better after the devastation.

Me: So do you want some sort of dowry agreement?

Let’s see. We’ve covered how I didn’t like New York, how Doris Day has let me down, how local people should sing songs about things which are local to them, how Vincent Price should read more poetry, how Carl Sandburg wrote my favorite poem about Chicago, how I make a fool of myself in public, and how people make amazing art about things they love. Oh, and how I love Chicago. I think that’s about all I wanted to do today.

By the way, this is a close runner-up to my favorite song/poem/thing about Chicago, but it’s a little newer and therefore not canonical.

Yup, I think that’s all.

I’ll Be Needing Some Stamps, Then.

When I was at Moody, going to the campus post office was a major daily event. There was a theme song.

If I buy anything from Amazon I check the “Is This Purchase a Gift?” box and write myself a happy little note, which I then promptly forget about so that I can be oh-so-surprised at my thoughtfulness when I receive the package. (I promise I have friends.)

I drop not-so-subtle hints whenever a friend goes out of town, reminding them to send me a post card. Hints like “Send me a post card!” and “No, really, you should take my address”, and “I have stamps! Take some!”

What I’m trying to say here is that I love getting mail.

So, there I was, minding my own business, skimming my Google Reader, when I read this post at Talk Wordy. Brian, copy editor, Twitter friend, and grammar blogger extraordinaire, is participating in a blog challenge called A Month of Letters.

The idea is that you sign up, then write and mail one letter or note or post card each day.

I love mail. I love this idea.

Mary Robinette Kowal thought it up after taking a month off the Internet last year. She told her friends that they could reach her by post if they needed her. Kowal found the whole thing so pleasant that she’s kept up her paper correspondence since then. To share her new found old-fashioned hobby, she initiated A Month of Letters. It was covered in the Guardian, there’s a whole fancy website dedicated to the cause.

Here are the rules (copied from the the website):

When was the last time you got a letter in the mail? December sees a lot of mail and you remember that sense of delight when the first card arrives. You can have that more often.

I have a simple challenge for you.

1. In the month of February, mail at least one item through the post every day it runs. Write a postcard, a letter, send a picture, or a cutting from a newspaper, or a fabric swatch.
2. Write back to everyone who writes to you. This can count as one of your mailed items.

All you are committing to is to mail 24 items. Why 24? There are four Sundays and one US holiday. In fact, you might send more than 24 items. You might develop a correspondence that extends beyond the month. You might enjoy going to the mail box again.

I have never participated in a blog challenge before. (I am a very bad blogger.) So, since this one involves something I love anyway, I thought it would be a great way to start. Now, I know that this challenge involves sending letters, not receiving letters, but I can only do so much here.

Since I just learned about this challenge, I’m a little bit behind. Tomorrow I’ll have to mail two letters. I’ve stuck some postcards into the book I’m reading, and I restocked on stamps. I even pulled out my fountain pens. They’re looking forward to this month particularly.

What about you? Having a good Thursday? Fancy joining us? You can sign up here. You can also follow along on Twitter using the #lettermo hashtag. Do you like getting mail? Think it’s a waste of trees? Have you participated in a blog challenge before? How’d that work out for you?

Finding Hank

Quick story for you.

Once upon a time, I was driving somewhere with my parents. We were talking about something serious, and I promise I was paying attention, but then I felt a blip on my Vintage Furniture radar. “STOP THE CAR!” I said. “I must garbage pick!”

We were in my grandparents’ retirement village, and someone had thrown out (or, attempted to throw out), a green steel cabinet with a yellow Formica top. What is it with retirees and their lack of affection for a good piece of avocado green?

I have a very small kitchen. The former tenant called it her “Barbie kitchen”, which is a pretty fair description. I’m taller than the refrigerator and I’m considering adding an EasyBake Oven to double my baking space. I have three cabinets’ worth of counter space, so any extra surface area I can bring in is practically life-saving. So, into the van went the cabinet, or Hank, as I now know to call him.

Someone, I’m guessing an overly helpful son or daughter, forgot to check the inside of Hank before they lugged him out to the curb. (Or they used him as a garbage receptacle. We’ll never know.) The cabinet was chock full of ancient musical recordings. Yes, I am now the proud owner of several Johnny Mathis records and “Bing Sings” on 8-track.

There was also an old money box, which is how I know a little of Hank’s history. The money box is full of receipts from The Harvey Florist, a shop which probably closed before Harvey, Illinois gained the rough reputation is has now. From what I’ve gathered, Hank used to work in the flower shop and retired when his owners did.

Hank’s given name is actually Henry. He asked to go by that now that he’s a piece of kitchen furniture, and feels like he wants something more sophisticated, but I forget to call him that, and he forgets to answer to it when I do. You know how it is. Old habits, etc. etc.

I can’t have pets in my apartment. So I name my furniture. Stop judging me.

Now Hank (who, yes, has been throughly disinfected) serves as both my microwave stand and a place to keep my fancy glasses. And as, you know, anthropomorphized companionship.

What’s your most favorite free treasure you’ve picked up? Do you name your furniture? Are you judging me for garbage picking? Let’s not be silly, Hank needed rescuing.

*I named this post “Finding Hank” so that any cable television programmers reading would have an easier time adapting this into the heart warming made-for-TV movie about a too-busy career girl and the wise old cabinet who teaches her how to appreciate the simple things in life that it needs to be. In case you were wondering.

Paper Christmas

It started, as so many things in my life do, with something I found on Twitter. A man I follow decided to organize a Secret Santa with his Internet friends. To keep it simple, he limited it to handmade gifts.

This was going to be great. I was going to get extra presents! I love extra presents! All I had to do was figure out what to make

So began several days of fretting. I tried googling my recipient, but she didn’t have any sort of web presence that I could find. Not even on Facebook. So, instead of being able to look for clues as to what she would like, I had protracted text brainstorming sessions with friends before I finally sort of settled on a sort of winter diorama. I wanted to give my Secret Santaee a box of winter. I thought it would be a fairly cheap, simple project.

I can be so silly sometimes.

After many trips to my local paper purveyor, a few lost Xacto knives, and lots and lots of glittter, I ended up with something close to my original idea.

I didn’t want this post to be just photo overload, so I condensed the making-of process into one photo. Oh, and I dumped an entire cup of coffee onto my real camera, so this is my attempt at gussying up my iPhone photos.

What I wanted to do was send my recipient a box of winter. I, as I’ve said before, have really missed the cold and the snow this year, so I was trying to send my Secret Santa person something of that feeling. So, they got this box:

And when they opened it, it looked like this:

The best part of this whole Secret Santa thing, though, was what I got in return. Uh-this:

If you don’t recognize this, you’re obviously not spending enough time reading the archives of this fine blog. Seriously, what are you doing between my posts? Anyway, that right there is a drawing of my desk, copied from a photo I posted here about a year back. I squealed. I’m going to frame it. And also sleep with it under my pillow. This is the perfect personal but not too personal Secret Santa gift. And it makes me wish that my Secret Santaee was easier to Google. Oh well. I love it. Oh, there’s also a drawing of the Hancock Building on the second notebook (which I also love, since I used to go to school within sight of it and also worked in the building for a few months), but I forgot to take a photo of that one because I was squealing and calling my mom.

So. That’s the first part of my Paper Christmas. The second part came from a desire to find something really custom and interesting for my sisters for Christmas. I wanted to do some Etsy shopping, but we exchanged gifts two weeks early and I ran out of time. It occurred to me about two days before Christmas (Observed) that if I can make gifts for strangers, than I can make gifts for sisters. And so I did.

Melissa really loves Alice in Wonderland (and is a lot like Alice in all sorts of good ways) so I made her a paper Alice with her classic blue dress and some tiny mushrooms. And beefy arms. I’m sorry about that, Alice dear.

This last one is what I believe to be my greatest achievement in things I have cut out of paper. It’s my favorite thing I’ve made in a long time. Elizabeth and I have both (separately) been watching Doctor Who this year. It really is a wonderful show. I will evangelize you if you stand still long enough. Anyways. The Doctor flies through space and time in his little blue box of a spaceship. It looks like a 1940s* police call box, but do not be decieved, his ship, the TARDIS, is bigger on the inside.

I made Elizabeth a paper TARDIS. Behold:

I considered stealing it but I did not. It looked really cute in my living room, though.

Did you make any of your gifts this year? Tell me about ‘em!

I wish you a very happy new year, and I’m going to leave you with this, because in an Internet that contains sleeping kittens and sneezing pandas and babies who recite poetry, this is the cutest thing that exists right now:

I would really like some snow. Please.

It will not snow.

I need snow. It’s sort of like one of those mermaid movies where the mermaid (who has recently turned into a human, obviously), hasn’t been around water recently, so her gills have started to reappear, except instead of being iridescent green, they’re now a sort of sickish gray.

My snow gills are gray.

We’ve had a few flurries, and I heard a rumor that there was actual snow in downtown Chicago last week, but I’ve seen almost nothing in the suburbs.

There is a growing flock of Canada geese who, instead of continuing south like reasonable birds, are taking over the parking lot at work. They think they’ve found their tropical paradise.

I went Christmas shopping on Michigan Avenue last Saturday, and I did not need a coat.

I’ve been watching the weather reports, and we’ve had a few snow storms predicted, but nothing’s materialized.

I’m starting to get anxious.

You know how after the Flood, God sent a rainbow as a promise that he’d never destroy the world that way again? Snow is sort of my rainbow. Give me a minute: I know I’m not making meteorological sense.

I’ve always loved snow. I was always happy to see it, no matter what time of year it happened to fall. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that it became as important to me as it is now.

It was my senior year at Moody, and I think I had just done badly on a test. I know that’s not really the end of the world, but I was miserable. I felt like I had wasted opportunities and time and like God had given me this gift of an education and I had squandered it. I left class, and instead of heading back to work at the yearbook office, I left campus. It had started to snow that morning, and there were already a few inches on the ground. I was wearing little fabric shoes and my feet were soaked almost immediately, but I had to walk.

I walked faster and faster, and as I walked I counted every mistake I had made in the past four years. Every missed opportunity and broken friendship and wasted moment. The faster I walked, the more mistakes I could remember. I was overwhelmed.

I stopped.

The snowflakes were huge. Nickel-sized. When I stood still, I could watch the snow on the ground get deeper. I was used to the noise of the city, the sounds of the traffic and people. But with that much snow, all those sounds were muffled. It was 2pm on a weekday in Chicago, and the whole city was silent. Everything, the wrought iron fences, the street lamps, the buildings, was covered in snow.

That was when I realized that if God could silence and transform a whole city with just a little frozen water, then there was nothing that I could do that he couldn’t make beautiful by covering it with a layer of redemption.

I could breathe again. I watched the snow for a few more minutes, then I went inside and put on dry socks.

Snow is my rainbow and my ebenezer and my reminder of what the Gospel means.

I am tired.  And I could use a refresher course on redemption. And I would really like it if it would snow.

Riding Along in My Jaunting Car

The summer after my sophomore year of high school, I was struck with an unusual bout of productivity. I enrolled myself in summer school to try to get ahead on something math-ish for the next year. (Clearly, there was some greater purpose behind all this. This was the first and last time I voluntarily spent extra time with numbers.) It was a morning class, so my parents would pick me up at lunch time every day and drive me home.

It was on one of these drives that I saw it.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That car! It’s adorable!”

We did this for a few days before I could get on of them to stop so I could identify the car. It was a little red MINI Cooper. I had never heard of one before. It was adorable. It was love.

I waved at that MINI every day for weeks until someone finally bought it. It was sort of a fluke that it was at that used car lot, anyway. BMW had just purchased the MINI company and brought them back to the States. They had only been available again for about six months. MINIs were, of course, available here in the 60s and 70s, but they were discontinued in the US because the original models were considered too small to be road safe. Too small to drive. So cute.*

I was smitten.

Over the next few years, cars entered and exited my life. My sister and I shared two cars (Lorelai and Lucia, God rest their souls), and my best friend and I had a few quite-exciting-enough close calls in her little purple Neon (Frankie, who I believe is in geriatric care). But these weren’t my cars. In fact, I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 19 and 364/365ths.

My family appeased me with mini MINIs.

Since I went to school and then worked in downtown Chicago, I didn’t really need a car until I started my job at Tyndale in the suburbs. Once I was there, I needed one in a hurry. My sister let me borrow her giant SUV while I saved up. Moose–as I affectionately called the Explorer–and I had a difficult relationship. I had to park him in a tiny one-car garage that was built in the 1950s. I had to coax him into waking up in the mornings. I had to fill him with $4 gas.

I started shopping for replacements for Moose, but I couldn’t find anything that would fit my budget but also be cute. Then I shopped for ugly cars out of spite. I would look at MINIs longingly, but they were all way out of my budget, or a really bad color. (Have I told you how shallow I am?)

One Sunday afternoon, after about three dozen conversations about what sort of car would be realistic for me, my parents had a hankering for a good Chicago hot dog. Normally, they’d just run to a stand near our house, but this time they wanted a particular hot dog. They took a nice long Sunday drive, meandering their way to the hot dog stand. I tell you all of these details about the hot dog and the Sunday drive because my parents were in a part of town that they very rarely go to. And they just happened to stumble upon a little blue for-sale-by-owner MINI Cooper, that just happened to be in my price range. My parents sent me pictures and I drove down for a test drive that afternoon.

The whole buying process actually took almost two months, but that’s a boring story.

Finally, after 10 years of hoping, waiting, wishing…

Presenting…Bunter!

Our first drive was to the Starbucks of my youth. Of course.

He is a perfect British gentleman. A gentleman’s gentleman, actually. Bunter gets his name from Mervin Bunter, the butler in Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter Whimsy mystery novels. Bunter the character is polite and efficient. He has excellent taste. He anticipates Lord Peter’s needs. He is, occasionally, the voice of reason when Lord Peter’s plans are too convoluted. He’s a bit of a ladies man on his day off. Basically, he’s everything I need in a car.

Bunter and friends, apple picking

What I didn’t know about owning a MINI is that it inducts you into this very exclusive club. MINI drivers see each other as kindred spirits. You can’t pass another MINI without giving at least a knowing smile. If a MINI suddenly pulls out in front of another MINI, it’s probably to show off a clever license plate pun. (My favorite so far: TRUNC8.)

Another hobby I’ve picked up is giggling uncontrollably when I park next to a Hummer. Or making intimidating faces at Smart Cars. Bunter loves that one.

Miracle of miracles, he fits in my garage with room to spare.

*Note: The MINI website says that it was actually new emissions regulations that sent the cars back home. I specifically remember reading that the distance between the driver’s head and the windshield needed to be greater than it was in a 60′s MINI. You should probably trust the MINI folks before you trust 15-year-old me, but that’s an awfully specific story for me to invent. Besides. Mine fits the story better.

The post title comes from this song from The Gnome Mobile, one of Disney’s underappreciated live action little people movies from the 60s.

In Which I Reward You for Reading the Fine Print

When last we spoke…well, when last last we spoke, since when last we spoke I told you about a book I love. Right. So, when last last we spoke, I celebrated one year of living on my own and gave myself award badges for surviving. At the end of that post, I said that I’d create badges for those who wanted them.

I had just won a lot of awards. I was feeling benevolent.

And so, since I am a (wo)man of my word, I present…

I hope you’re all dressed appropriately. Otherwise I’ll have to hire someone to give you the stink eye and one of my Year Two goals is to stick to a better budget and I just didn’t plan for a bouncer. Thank you for your cooperation.

***

The “WordPress Hero” Badge

Marc didn’t technically ask for this badge in the comments of that last post, but we discussed it shortly after he got me out of a WordPress hole.

My webmastering strategy is usually to grab a piece of code, close my eyes, and wiggle it until something either looks better or breaks. Marc very kindly helps me out when I break things. I believe this particular time, he helped me turn on threaded comments on the blog so that I can reply to comments without it being horribly confusing. That didn’t even involve code. It involved me pushing a button. Sigh.

So, Marc gets a cape.

Incidentally, Marc and his wife had a baby yesterday. He doesn’t get a badge for that. He gets a baby.

***

The “I Survived Wound Care Even When The Nurses Hadn’t Had Coffee Yet” badge

This badge is for my Twitter friend Krista, who very bravely endures wound care after and even before the nurses have had coffee. I don’t endure people who haven’t had their coffee, period, so I can’t imagine the cranky nurses. Good job, Krista.

***

The “Starting Two New Businesses and Actually Making Some Money”  badge

Brenda requested the “Starting Two New Businesses and Actually Making Some Money” badge, but I’d like to edit that and make it the “Starting Two Adorable Businesses Where She Makes So Many Pretty Things and Oooh, Look at That Photo and That Photo…” badge. That’s a bit long for a badge name, though, so I’ll stick with her wishes. Brenda is a wedding coordinator, and she also rents out vintage accessories for events and photo shoots. (Brilliant. Idea.)

Check out Storybrook Wedding Design and Storehouse Rentals, especially if you’re in Northern California.

***

The “I Picked up and Moved Cross-Country” badge

Katy Dear requested a badge for one of her great accomplishments this year. The woman’s been busy. A small sampling: she survived a long-distance relationship with her husband, parented two pitbulls, lived through the craziest house-purchasing story I’ve ever heard of, and reupholstered a wingback chair. You should read her blog.

I’m going to say, though, that the biggest (and, ahem, easiest to draw) accomplishment was picking up her little family and moving all the way across country to purchase a home in Michigan. She, her husband, and her two pitbull puppies journeyed all the way from the nation of Texas to the Great Midwest. (She’s my neighbor now.)

 ***

This concludes our ceremony. Thanks for coming. Please take your programs with you. Not only are they great scrapbook fodder, but it helps the ushers out.

Happy Fall! And Happy Giveaway!

Update: Giveaway closed. Winner announced at the end of the post. 

I know that as a grown-up, I’m not supposed to have fall breaks. However, one of the perks of grown-up-iality is that I get this thing called paid-time off. Paid time off is sort of like Choose Your Own Break. So, all of this to say…

Happy Fall Break!

I plan to spend the day drinking cider or going to a corn maze or looking at dry leaves or watching scary movies or sleeping all day. I haven’t decided yet. However, in celebration of my day off, I’d like to give you a book.

Which book?

This book:

You may remember Matt Mikalatos when I spent a week last February celebrating is first book, Imaginary Jesus. I wrote a review of the book, interviewed Matt, and told you just how much I love the audio version of IJ.

I considered writing a review of this book, but a) I’ve sort of stopped writing book reviews and b) it’s my day off and that sounds a lot like something I shouldn’t do on my day off.

Instead, I’ve decided to cobble together a new review out of bits and pieces of the ones that I’ve found on the Internet. Yes, that’s right. It’s a Frankenreview. Cue lightning and maniacal laughter.

Matt’s books are love letters to the Evangelical community in all our broken mess. New believers or those exploring Christianity won’t get a lot of the subtle jokes and gags, but the story is sufficiently rich that anyone will enjoy and be challenged by what they find. For those who do pick up on the subtleties, Matt takes shots at everyone across the board, including an honest look at himself. It’s a great book to read for fun or as part of a discussion club.

Bottom line: This book is outstanding. We need more totally silly, totally serious theology like Matt gives us. Not everyone will enjoy the monster metaphor, but if that’s your cup of tea, then you need this book. It’ll make you take a hard look at the monstrous aspects of your own soul. And you’ll ache for the same transformation Matt and his band of monsters discover.

JR. Forasteros, Relevant Magazine

Mikalatos’ allegorical tale is funny and insightful. In a world of vampires, zombies and monster hunters, he uses this subject matter to full effect. Vampires are the opposite of Jesus, they have eternal life, but are not living. He suggests that a lot of Christian’s are zombie like – following a preacher’s sermons without thinking for themselves; that they should try to see how they can be true to Christ through their own actions and not wait to be told how to be a Christian. That so many churches are filled with people who have insurmountable faith but don’t have any ‘deeds’ to confirm their faith. Why live a life that isn’t transforming you?

Lini536, Book Reviews

There are so few truly humorous books and even fewer humorous Christian books. But Mikalatos, both the writer and the character in the story, succeed unconditionally and for that reason alone this book is worth a read. The fact that it is also clever, pointed and enlightening only serves to add to its appeal. Night of the Living Dead Christian is one of the best Christian books this year. Not only does it entertain but it informs and challenges. Anyone who reads this book cannot but be transformed.

Scott Asher, BookGatweay.com

Now hang on while I teach this Frankenreview “Puttin’ on the Ritz”.

Ok, so that’s done.

I have one copy of Night of the Living Dead Chrisitan to give away, so in order to win it, you should do the following:

Matt Mikalatos’ first book, Imaginary Jesus, is available as a free download at Barnes & Noble, CBD, Sony, and Amazon. Go to one of those places, download Imaginary Jesus, then leave me comment saying “I downloaded Imaginary Jesus, and I would love a copy of NLDC.” Then tell me your favorite fall activity. (If you already own a copy of Imaginary Jesus, that counts. Good for you.)

So your comment would look something like this: “I downloaded Imaginary Jesus, and I would love a copy of NLDC. My favorite fall activity is burying my dog in a pile of leaves and telling my sister that it’s a monster.”

You have until Friday, October 21st to do this, at which time I’ll use Random.org to choose a winner.

Happy Fall

Oh, and DISCLAIMER: I work for Tyndale House Publishers, who published Night of the Living Dead Christian and Imaginary Jesus. But I’d tell you to read it anyway, so there.

So you know, I did end up at a corn maze. It was great, thanks for asking. Congratulations to James Eldridge. Email me (jadoogan (a t) gmail)  your address and I’ll send you a copy of Night of the Living Dead Christian.

In Which I Reward Myself for My Own Survival

One year ago today yesterday, I moved out of my parents house and into my own little apartment. (Well, technically, it was my roommate’s own little apartment, but she let me stay with her. She’s since moved on with her life.) Since this was my First Year Living On My Own, there were lots of pretty big Firsts.

Now, I tend to be pretty reward-oriented. I always have been. I spent nine years of my childhood memorizing Bible verses and participating in athletic activities just so I could get a giant gold trophy. (And, cough, for the general edification that comes from memorizing Bible verses. And also the candy bars.)

So, as I was looking back at this year and of the First Living Year On My Own hurdles I jumped, I thought it would be nice to have something similar to all those AWANA trophies. I considered getting little patches to sew on a vest, or maybe little jewels to stick in a crown, but then I realized that I actually have a lot of dishes to wash, so I should probably go simpler. Besides, if I’ve learned nothing else in this first year of real adulthood, it’s that I need to  work with what I’ve got. Which is, in this case, a pen, a smart phone, and a blog. I’m nothing if not resourceful.

So instead of renting out a hall to present myself with awards that moths and rust destroy, allow me to welcome you to my…

Find a seat, get comfortable. I’ve been practicing my acceptance speeches all day, so should be able to keep this succinct. If not, I’ve installed one of those retractable microphones in my living room.

Let’s start small with some life essentials…

***

The “I Can Feed Myself Like a Big Girl” Badge

I love to cook. Always have. When I was six, my specialty was this elaborate peanut butter and jelly that I made by checkering the pb AND j on to each piece of bread, and then folding the bread on to itself.  It took about three times as long as a normal sandwich, and tasted exactly the same, but it was fancy. When I moved out, I assumed my love of fancy food would mean that cooking for myself every night would be a joy. I learned this year that cooking is fun when it’s optional. It’s not that I no longer enjoy cooking, or that I never do. It’s just that I eat macaroni and cheese a lot more often than I’d like to admit. This badge is for excellence in Not Starving to Death.

This year I plan to earn the Eat Your Vegetables badge, the Sack Lunch badge, and the Noodles Don’t Have to be Shaped Like Disney Characters badge.

***

the “Dish Soap Should Not Be Named Ironically” badge

My main defense for not cooking for myself is that I don’t have a dishwasher. Basically, the better my meal tastes, the more time I get to spend in the kitchen after dinner, partying like it’s 1932 and my large Irish family is out in the fields gathering potatoes and I am the only one who can wash dishes because they all have severe allergies to to dish soap and we can’t loose another field-hand that way and so I must bear my cross with courage. Or I listen to audiobooks. Depends on the day.

This year, I plan to earn the “Hey Look, I Have Kitchen Counters” badge. Or maybe the “Give In and Buy a Portable Dishwasher” badge.

***

the “Riding Along in My Jaunting Car” badge

This was a particularly fun badge to earn. This summer, I bought my first car. Twenty-five might seem a bit old to be buying my first car, but I went to school/worked within the bounds of public transportation for five years. That’s my excuse. Anyway, my little blue Mini Cooper is named Bunter, after the gentleman’s gentleman in the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries, and he is my best friend. We have all sorts of adventures planned.

I have my eye on the “Extended Road Trip” badge, and the “I Hope I Don’t Have to But Perhaps I Could Learn to Do Something Like Change A Tire or Oil or I Could Just Vacuum His Floormats” badge.

***

the “It Sure is Character Building Outside” badge

I prefer winter. Make no mistake. It’s pretty. The nights are clear and crisp. There’s snow everywhere. I could survive in December/January for a good long time, thank you very much. However, this winter was particularly harsh. We had a blizzard that shut down most of the Midwest. I was given a day and a half off work because it was unsafe to go outside. I went to the grocery store at the last minute to buy rations, and ended up with a steak and half a dozen over-priced scented candles. (Ok. Grocery stores of America. If there’s going to be a blizzard, you stock candles. Not $15 vanilla scented ones. The ones that I can afford to burn to keep me from falling down my steep and terrifying steps. Thank you.) Bright side: I am still burning those lovely accent candles almost a year later.

Since this was no ordinary blizzard, I award myself a bonus badge for surviving a natural disaster that had a nickname. I will wear it with pride.

Let’s see. This year I plan to earn the “Build a Snowman” badge, the “Don’t Forget to go to the German Christmas Market” badge, and the “Stifle Angry Faces at People Who Complain about Winter” badge.

***

the “Aspirational Green Thumb” badge

I decided that instead of putting myself through the emotional turmoil of naming a plant and then being sad when I killed it, I would name my flower pot. Sparky the flower pot has served me well all summer. To my surprise and delight, so has the plant I bought. I currently have two plants that are almost entirely alive, despite my best efforts.

This year, I plan to make up for the ranunculus I killed this spring by earning the “Kill Another Ranunculus Because I Never Learn” badge.

***

the “Customer Service Purgatory” badge

This is probably the most grown-up trial I’ve had to endure this year. I signed up for cable just as the new year rolled in. I spent at least three nights a week in January on the phone with AT&T trying to understand why they couldn’t help me. I was without Internet and in near despair. The AT&T reps were all very nice, and I could tell that they wanted to help. One spent a good ten minutes describing my problem using ship metaphors, which was all a giant build up to his grand conclusion: “It’ll be smooth sailing from here, ma’am.”

There was also a rep who promised to be my “Micky Mouse–no–my Mighty Mouse”. I wasn’t sure if I should hang up on him or not.

It wasn’t until Valentine’s Day night that a poor AT&T tech wandered around my neighborhood in the sleet, fielding calls from his angry wife, to find that AT&T had never wired my house for DSL. Many hearts were broken that day.

In the next year, I plan to earn the “Go Completely Off the Grid” badge. For at least 20 minutes guys, I promise.

***

the “Oh, I Finally Found the Candles” badge

I earned this badge in conjunction with my First Tornado Warning badge, but since it wasn’t an actual tornado, I didn’t know how to draw that. I guess I could have drawn the little fort I made in my creepy basement.

For three days in the middle of summer, I was without power and forced to entertain myself like they did in the olden days: by plugging my wireless router into the generator my landlord provided. Actually, for about twenty minutes I attempted to embroider by candlelight. Mostly so I could tweet about it. Really, the worst of this week was that I missed a doctorwhotime and my hair was a little flat for lack of hairdryer. I got over it. But cute band-aid on that light bulb, right?

This year I plan to achieve the “Appreciate Light Switches” badge. I did miss those guys that week.

***

the “DIY to Death” badge

I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I got all crafty this year. I’m not sure what hit me. All of a sudden I was buying embroider floss and making pillows and just generally doing all the its I could find. However, my apartment has become particularly cozy, so I’m going to say it’s worth it. Since Kate came and helped me do some re-arranging, I’ve had to flip a coin to decide which of my two rooms I’m going to spend my evening in. I love my little home, so I’ll gladly accept this badge.

I’m in the running for a “Cutify This More” badge, and a “Actually Learn How to Sew/Embroider/Cross-stitch” badge this time around.

***

the “Naturey-type” badge

This isn’t even a legitimate badge. I was just excited about it. I have skunks in my yard. I have never seen a real live skunk before. I grew up only 30 miles away, and we had all sorts of fauna in our yard (rabbits, deer, foxes, squirrels, coyotes, raccoons, small hoodlums), but never skunks. So when I surprised one in my yard one night, it was a major life event. Very few people were excited about this for me, so I’m giving it an official badge just to express my excitement.

Next year I plan to win the “Um…I Don’t Know…I Guess I’ve Always Wanted to See a Wolverine” badge.

***

So this is my basically my year in review. It’s been a good year. I’ve had to learn how to live by myself, which isn’t always easy. Because there’s no one around to off-set my strengths and weaknesses, I’ve learned a good bit about consequences. If I don’t make coffee, no one gets coffee. That’s rough. (On the other hand, there’s no one around to make bad coffee.)  I’ve learned that as introverted as I think I am, I still miss having people around. I’ve learned that I can keep myself pretty well entertained. I think I’ve also become a little more comfortable with myself, since I’m forced to be in my own company most of the time. Oh, and I laugh at all my own jokes. But that’s not really a new thing.

Overall, it’s been a good year, and I’m looking forward to the next.

This is the longest post I’ve ever written, so if you do actually get this far, leave a comment and I’ll make you the badge of your choice. You don’t get a ceremony, though. These shindigs are just once a year, like Christmas.  Or, if you don’t want a badge, you can still leave a comment and say hi. I think you’re pretty.